


Bulletproof

by diefleder_tey



Category: Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: Dark, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 14:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diefleder_tey/pseuds/diefleder_tey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yokoyama loves his job as an idol.  After injuring his back during one of his solo shows, he's soon faced with the question: just <i>how much</i> does he love that job?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bulletproof

  
Yoko’s mouth was open - his eyes closed - as he slid further and further onto the table with a death rattle of disgust. “It’s annoying!”

Across from him, Hina nodded. “It’s a problem, right?”

“It’s a problem! And it’s super annoying! After the MC I was really excited, right?”

“Right, that happens.”

“Right? So the next song started and I jumped up and yelled to get everyone’s excitement up and – POP.”

“Pop?”

“POP!” Yoko said, wincing. “POP!”

“Pop?”

“Some kind of sharp pain in my back. I jumped up and messed up my back.”

“But you kept going, right?” Hina asked.

“I kept going.”

“That’s what an idol does,” Hina suggested.

“That’s what an idol does,” Yoko repeated, slumping back in his chair with less care than he probably should have taken. “It hurts now, a lot – after sitting here. So annoying.”

“You should pro-”

“So annoying!” Yoko interrupted. “I think I…what’s the word…wracked? I wr-”

“Wrenched?”

“Yeah, I think I wrenched my back and I have another show this weekend! So annoying.” He looked straight across the table. “This is what getting old is like.”

“Not again…”

“Things will just keep getting worse and more and more things will break and in a couple of years I’ll have trouble walking down the street without hurting my back-”

“You’ve already done that tonight,” Hina pointed out.

“And next thing you know your entire body gives out and you have nothing and then you die.”

“You’ve already said that tonight,” Hina repeated.

“It’s after midnight?”

“What?”

“It’s after midnight,” Yoko pointed out. “I said it _yesterday_ , so I can say it again today.”

“You need to have a doctor look at it, then,” Hina said, getting back to the topic at hand.

“No way,” Yoko started. “No.”

A staff member everyone referred to as K-Taro leaned in at the end of the table to speak into his microphone. “You really should go.”

“You haven’t said a word all night, don’t start sharing your opinion now!” Yoko yelled back.

“Just go!” Hina replied.

“No,” Yoko whined. “They’ll look at it and say, ‘Know what will fix this? A shot.’”

“They’re not going to give you a shot.”

“Yes they will,” Yoko argued.

“No they won’t!”

“Soccer.”

Hina cocked his head in confusion. “What?”

“When soccer players get hurt, do they get injections?”

“Sometimes,” he answered, slowly. “If it’s a really important game, they’ll get one so they can go back on the field.”

“See!”

K-Taro made the hand motion to indicate that Recomen needed to wrap up fairly soon, a gesture Yoko only saw out of the corner of his eye. His overall expression of annoyance, with his mouth hanging open slightly, changed to one of interest. “Should we try Maru again?” he suggested.

“He might not answer - if he doesn’t recognize the number," Hina warned. "He might if you call him first.”

“He might if we call him first…,” Yoko started, as the staff dialed out the number. “He won’t pick up. We’ll have to call back next week and ask why he di-”

“Hello?” said a voice over the phone.

“You answered?! Now I sound like a liar…”

“…hello?” Maru said over the phone, slightly confused.

“Maru-chan,” Hina said, “we tried calling you earlier.”

“You didn’t answer,” Yoko said. He was pushing his chin forward, like he did any time he was annoyed or pouting, causing his words to come out a little muddled through his bottom lip. “You never answer when we call.”

“You didn’t recognize the number again, right?” Hina asked.

“I was asleep,” Maru answered.

“You were not,” Yoko replied.

“No, I was!”

“This early? You weren’t sleeping – you don’t want to answer our calls,” Yoko continued.

“No, no,” Maru insisted, “I was asleep – I wasn’t feeling good-”

“I told you not to eat everything you got from the convenience store at once,” Hina interrupted.

“Oioioi, that’s-”

“You were at the convenience store together?” Yoko asked, flashing the particular smile he reserved for mischief.

It was a smile Hina knew pretty well. “No.”

“No, that’s not it,” Maru tried again. “I was running a fever and-”

“You should probably go to bed,” Hina advised.

“…I was in bed.”

“Maru-chan? Maru-chan?”

“Yes?”

“Maru-chan?” Yoko repeated. He was looking at K-Taro, who was giving the final wrap up sign. “We’re out of time - we’ll have to call back next week.”

“Yes,” Maru answered, with slight exasperation.

“Say goodbye to everyone.”

Maru's tone picked up with immediate enthusiasm, spouting off a sentence of a gag that Yoko only half heard. He was too busy thinking. As soon as the line disconnected, he pointed in the general direction of their phones and scoffed. “That guy,” he said, “has a fever and he’s up at this hour. He should be in bed.”

After the show, Yoko shuffled towards the opening of the building, his attention and his thumb on his cellphone, punching in characters. One of the fluorescent lights near the entrance was on its way out, flickering in and out with a familiar buzzing. It mattered little in terms of actual light, since there were several other bulbs along the hallway; if anything, when it was working properly, it made the studio house look that particular pale sickly light green found in every fluorescent lit hospital. The suggestion, and consequent reminder, would have made Yoko ill had he been paying attention to anything besides what was in front of him.

 _Do your best! Feel better tomorrow._

“Hey,” Hina said, catching up to Yoko and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Did you tell the managers?”

“Hmm?” Yoko hit send on his phone and flipped it shut.

“Did you tell them about your back yet?”

He clicked his tongue, sighing. “I’m just going to take something and go to sleep tonight – it’ll be fine.”

“Tell them,” Hina warned.

Later that night, in the middle of deep sleep, Yoko woke up with a sudden exhale - rolling to his side, out of his bed and onto his knees, grabbing the sheets. Through scrunched up eyes, he could sort of tell that it was late and his first thought was that he must have had a bad dream. His second thought, immediately after, was that something felt wrong, uncomfortable - and generally, only the pressing need to urinate jolted a person awake at that hour. If there was anything worse than waking up in the middle of the night to a need that couldn't be ignored, it was the actual consequence of ignoring it. Begrudgingly, he decided it was worth the irritation of getting up and walking to the bathroom.

With chunks of sheet in both hands, Yoko tried to pull himself off of the floor, only to realize that he hadn’t woken up from any pressure in his abdomen but from the tearing and burning in his back. The pain intensified until he couldn’t help but yell as he crawled into bed. Once flat against the mattress, the sensation leveled out and returned to its earlier merely irritating presence. It was manageable again - surely the intensity moments ago was just the result of a cramp...

“Whatever,” Yoko muttered, reaching slowly over, his slender fingers tapping until they hit his cellphone. “A needle’s worth it.”

He sent a quick text message to one of the managers, he wasn’t even sure which one, for an appointment the next day before throwing the phone at the floor in surrender.

  


***

  
 _Oh_ , Yoko thought to himself as the van pulled up, _it was **that** manager._

Not that seeing his face really helped; they were on a rotating schedule of new managers every few years. This one had only come in last month and though Yoko always made it a point to be aware of anyone with a direct hand in his life, sometimes it was easier to think of codenames instead of learning their given names right off. This new guy - a kid really, compared to Yoko – he hadn’t been around long enough to get even that far.

And even if he had, Yoko tended to shy away from sticking his neck out for private conversation. Besides, he wasn’t in the mood. When he hunched, the ache was less noticeable - but he couldn’t hunch for too long without making the rest of his back hurt. Whatever he had done, the pain oscillated between annoying and disruptive, like someone had two fingers against his spine at the waist, sometimes poking, sometimes jabbing. The whole area felt fragile, like bone scraping on bone every time he shifted.

Which happened a lot during the car ride, despite his best efforts to bury his concentration in to his DS. At least the manager shared the preference for silence; he said nothing between his initial greeting and, “Here it is.”

Yoko paused the game, but didn’t bother to put it away. “Where?”

“Right here,” the manager said. He had pulled off the street into a spot in front of the tail end of a building. The joint spaces were occupied with various vendors and looked newer, sturdier than the white brick, one story office next to them.

“That?” Yoko asked. “There’s- you can’t do anything in there, that’s a ramen stand.”

The manager handed him a card with the agency's business information on it. “You’re supposed to tell them you’re a Johnny’s – they’ll take care of you immediately.”

“Where?” Yoko pressed, dryly, taking the card and getting out anyway. He waited for a couple of minutes, expecting to see the manager drive off – between the seven members of the group, they always had to cart someone around somewhere. But the van was parked, the engine off. He wasn’t leaving.

“Got it,” Yoko said, turning to enter the building. Just as well - the rest of the day was already scheduled for him. If he stalled too long, he'd be late to work.

Inside, there was a receptionist behind a desk, a man sitting in the waiting area and along the back wall a solid, wooden door that looked like it led to nowhere more significant than a closet. If they were equipped to do anything at all, he thought, it wouldn’t be much more than an injection.

His tendency when nervous was to increase his volume and energy, and most of the time, he was free to give into the habit. Here, away from cameras and microphones, though, he had to bury the impulse with his best acting. “I have an appointment,” he told the receptionist. "Yokoyama." His eyes had already started to wander – the main room was so tiny, maybe it was really just a shuttle station where patients waited to be bussed over to the actual medical office?

“Follow me, please.”

He held out the business card the manager had given him, now with a slight indent where his thumb had been pressing into it a little too hard. “I’m supposed to tell you I’m a Johnny’s.”

She smiled. “I know. Follow me, please.”

“Where are the offices?” he asked, walking behind her. “Another building?”

“They’re downstairs,” she answered, opening the door for him, revealing a hallway with an elevator at the end. The interior looked considerably cleaner and more sophisticated than the front room, much more like what he was used to when it came to medicine.

Things were starting to click. This was a private clinic for particular clientele…

Sure, downstairs, why not? Hostess clubs had back doors so entertainers could slip out without being Friday’d. The same discretion in health, especially for certain services, only made sense. No matter how weird it was to go underground to see a doctor, the real waiting area on the next floor looked like any other waiting area. Same typical magazines, same typical chairs, same typical staff.

It turned out to be particularly uninteresting to Yoko and the threat of imminent needles loomed large again. He resumed focus on the DS.

“Yokoyama-kun?”

He was tempted to show a little sign of disgust at the interruption - after all, it took a good deal of mental preparation to decide to willfully ignore fear. And then, he was tempted to start laughing as hard as he could - after all, Nishikido Ryo was standing in front of him wearing nothing more than trunks, a bathrobe and the requisite hospital slippers.

"I didn't know you were coming today too," Ryo said. "Sick?" At the mere suggestion, he pulled back slightly, losing a bit of energy in his smile. "You're sick again?"

"No," Yoko answered. "I think I pulled my back in concert Wednesday." He finally put away the gaming device. "I'm sorry - what are you wearing?"

"What?" Ryo said, glancing down. "Oh, they said it would take a couple of minutes to prep The Bath, but I just went ahead and got ready."

"You're here for a bath?" Yoko muttered. "Must be nice."

Ryo cocked a half-smile of mild amusement. "It's not like you came here to get surgery," he said, a little punchier than he probably intended. "Wait a minute, Wednesday? You weren't here Wednesday night. You didn't come in for two days?"

"I was busy," Yoko said, going on the defensive. "I promised the- wait, you were here?"

"Uh," Ryo started. His rough disapproval gave way to sheepish embarrassment, hidden behind the chewing of his lip. "I messed up my shoulder goofing around."

"Nishikido-kun," a nurse said, peering over the counter at the main desk, picking up two charts as she stood. "We're ready, you can go in. Yokoyama-kun, you'll be in The Bath next, if you'd like to go with him."

Yoko stood with confusion on his face, fingers barely lifting under the neck of his shirt. Ready? He looked over at Ryo again - didn't they skip a step?

"Ah, no x-ray?" Ryo commented, quickly switching to admonishment. "Don't take your shirt off here!"

"Why not?" he answered, giving into his favorite defense tactic as he followed Ryo around a corner and through the last door at the end of the hallway. "You took yours off and walked around, why can't I? You don't even have pants on! I look just as good as Dokkun-" Inside the room, Yoko dropped the joke immediately. "What...is that?"

Ryo didn't hear him and took off his bathrobe, tossing it on the floor. He put his left hand to his right shoulder, rolling the joint and moving the arm and up down. "I hope this works this time."

The room itself was tiny, making the machinery in front of them hard to miss. What looked like, as best as Yoko could understand it, two parallel cylinders - metallic, cold and a size suitable for humans - tilted back towards the wall on a low platform. Both sides were innervated with a series of pipes like plumbing and in the middle they were connected by a considerably thinner line, with a gauge in the middle.

If the sight was strange, the smell was unmistakable. Yoko could taste the wet, clinical smell of moisture that hung in the air - as if he had just walked into a sterilized indoor waterfall.

"What do you have next?" Ryo spoke up, approaching the far chamber and feeling along its side. "I didn't want to wait around so I just took a taxi, but I don't mind waiting until- ah," he said, finding the latch and opening up the cylinder.

"I was coming to do that," the nurse said, walking through the door. She stopped shortly to pick up the robe and asked, "Support?"

"Nn, I don't think so," Ryo answered, getting inside. There was barely enough space for a regular sized person, allowing him to fit rather comfortably. He leaned back into the tilt, reaching behind his head to pull a strap out of the way.

"I altered the program from yesterday," she continued, checking the rest of the cylinder like a carnival worker securing safety devices at the start of a ride. "I think I found the line bothering your shoulder."

"Should...should I get in that one?" Yoko spoke up, pointing a finger at the cylinder next to him.

"That's not funny!" Ryo said, nervous laughter in his voice. "It's not- I'm serious, don't. Yoko? Yokoyama!"

Yoko didn't answer, instead giving into a confused silence that only fueled Ryo's anxiety. He couldn't help it - he was starting to think he would prefer an injection. While he had never had any problems with claustrophobia, the tight fit of the machine was too unnerving to completely ignore. The chambers didn't even have windows and Yoko imagined that, with the number of pipes in each, they filled fairly full with water.

"All set," the nurse told Ryo. "He won't get in, I promise." She pulled down the door and latched it shut; the red light on the front switched on, like the "in use" signal on a darkroom. "I'll be right back for you," she told Yoko, leaving the room.

The start of the machine was like a giant dishwasher or wash machine, with a loud flushing of water. If the over-glorified hot shower worked, he thought, getting squished into a tube shouldn't be that big of a price to pay. But it wasn't just being in the confines of the cylinder that bothered him. His mind and his gut had already decided - Yoko didn't want to deal with the machine. At least not today.

And when Yokoyama Yuu made up his mind to avoid something, very little could force him to do otherwise.

Before he moved to walk out, the noise stopped. There were a few clicks, the sounds of settling, and then the light on one cylinder went off as the other switched on.

The seal on the door broke with a hiss and Ryo emerged, next to him, from a cloud of steam, tucking a towel he had grabbed from the side around his waist.

"That was quick," Yoko barely said.

Ryo let out a frustrated yell. "It didn't work," he said, stretching his neck and working his shoulder as he stepped out. After a grimace or two, he stuck his fingers on his scalp, fluffing out hair that didn't seem at all to be affected by the steam. "I'll have to come back tomorrow- or I wonder if they can try again- oh, after you're-"

"You took too long. Really, you were in there forever and now I have to leave for work," Yoko announced, exiting the room. As he headed down the hallway, he gave a disinterested look to the nurse, shrugging his shoulders. "Dokkun took too long."

No one made a motion to stop him as he got into the elevator.

And as he passed by the receptionist, expecting someone to flag him down, she smiled and waved him off. "Please come again!"

Outside, Yoko paused only once to check if anyone would follow him out. When no one did, he got into the van and sighed slightly out of relief when the manager started the engine.

"They couldn't fit me in today," he blurted out as the van pulled out onto the street.

"Oh," the manager replied. "I'll reschedule for tomorrow."

"Oh?" Yoko grumbled to himself. Did this guy really think the appointment had gone as planned before he opened his mouth and said otherwise?

Now he was off to arrive at his next job too early, the backache creeping up to an aggravating level with nothing to show for sitting around in the waiting room. Yoko wished he were younger so he could get away with pouting about the entire thing, but he knew well enough that he could have fixed everything if he had only stayed and gotten into the machine. He was lucky that what he had to film later that day was easy; tomorrow morning, it wouldn't be. The back would be an issue, making him agitated and distracted and less than what he preferred.

And it would be bad enough going into filming like this, but the next solo show? When the problem had such a simple fix?

Even though Yoko was fully aware of the fact that the whole situation was his fault, he couldn't help but give into a little mental grumbling about the nature of the problem. Somewhere in between remembering how creepy The Bath seemed and rehashing already stable lines, he caught himself momentarily thinking about cigarettes. Weird. He hadn't smoked in years, hadn't had any sort of inclination since he quit - out of nowhere came a slight nagging twinge that was quickly followed by the much more familiar nausea. Maybe just too much stress at once.

At least, he thought, if Ryo brought up his moment of panic later, Yoko could easily deflect the conversation to a description of Ryo's "medical" shorts...

  


***

  
"I'm afraid we'll need to bump your appointment."

In all honesty, being rescheduled in of itself didn't really bother him. It did delay the inevitable, even after he had managed to grind down his own procrastinating self-preservation tendencies. And it did put him out slightly - they could have called one of the managers before they shuttled him away from work to the clinic. But he understood their position and a little more time wasn't all that unappealing. Still, Yoko answered with a, "What?!" because he almost felt like it was expected. "How come he gets to go now?"

"I'm sorry," the nurse repeated. "We already have his file programmed. Yesterday afternoon after you left we realized we filtered out the wrong line - I think you'll be pleased with the results today," she said, changing her focus to Ryo. "It's ready if you'd like to go in."

"That doesn't even make sense," Yoko commented.

"I'm sorry, your manager made the appointment at the last minute and we were just asked to make room for an important walk-in-"

"That's not what I meant," Yoko replied, even though the other obviously wasn't listening to him.

"We're free tonight," she continued. "If your schedule's clear we could accommodate you then."

"That could work," Ryo spoke up. "It's pretty quiet and quick at night - you don't have anything else today, do you?"

"I told Maru I'd go to dinner with him," Yoko replied, nodding yes to the new appointment time without really thinking. "I could miss that. Eating with Maru's a pain," he said, dismissively, after the nurse walked off. Yoko shifted his stance. "Maybe he'll come back with me - he's had some kind of cold lately."

"No, that's not a good idea," Ryo blurted out. He immediately changed tone. "It's just a cold, right? There's no reason to come in for something like that."

Yoko frowned slightly and followed the other back to the treatment room, where the machine stood just as indifferent as the day before.

"You're going to watch again?" Ryo laughed.

"I have nothing to do until you're done," Yoko answered, "it's better than sitting in the waiting room and having the nurses stare at me the entire time. And talking about me!"

Ryo didn't argue - he knew exactly what Yoko meant.

Same as the day before, he climbed into the machine, declined "support" and comfortably watched the door close down, sealing him in the windowless cylinder. Lights came on, pipes flushed with water and the nurse once again left Yoko to his own devices while Nishikido Ryo "bathed" his shoulder into better health.

Within minutes, Yoko was tired - mentally and physically, his back already too sore - of standing there. He leaned up against the wall, turning his shoulder so he wouldn't have to face the machine straight on.

The nagging thought from the day before had pushed itself in again, blocking out the smell of the hanging water and the sound of the process. Cigarettes - he just really wanted to find a pack and maybe not light one, but hold it for some reason. Not so much like a security blanket, but like a sore in the mouth that you can't stop poking no matter how much it hurts.

The thought was bothersome in several ways. Yoko was becoming impatient with himself and started to think back to the day he had quit. Some people needed patches, some needed gum - not him. He made up his mind and stopped immediately and never went back. He could remember the motions he had a while after, sometimes missing the feeling or the smell until eventually both became so utterly repulsive that the mere thought sometimes made him sick to his stomach. He remembered how he felt giving it up; he couldn't remember the day he put down his last pack.

It wasn't that big of a deal - after all, what was important was the triumph, not the setting. Still, at times like these he wished pestering thoughts were flies so he could swat them down and be done with them. If he were so triumphant, why was the nagging urge coming back now?

Maybe it was Hina's fault, he thought. Yoko had been riding Hina to quit, too - if there was anything he could change instantaneously about his longtime coworker and most-times friend, it would be that...

Yoko's thoughts trailed off as the noise dropped out of the air, leaving just the clicking and settling like before. Maybe he'd tell Hina about this place during the next Recomen - after all, if one stupid machine could fix a shoulder and a backache...

The seal on the door hissed again and Ryo stepped out, once again grabbing a towel but much happier than before. "I think that worked," he said, looking pleasantly relieved.

"I knew it," Yoko said, pushing off the wall.

"Hm?"

"Which one did you come out of?" he asked.

Ryo paused, giving a look of amused confusion. "This one?" he said, pointing to the still open cylinder behind him. "The one I just walked out of."

"Uh huh," Yoko continued. "Which one did you get into?"

Ryo's expression didn't change as he pointed to the other cylinder, the closed one furthest from them. "That one."

Yoko's defense and his bottom lip dropped slightly. "You came out of this one?"

"Yes."

"And you went into this one?"

"What's wrong with you?" Ryo asked, starting to fluff out his hair again and smirking.

"What's wrong with me?! You went into that one and came out of this one!"

"Yeah?" This time Ryo's amusement was gone and replaced by slight irritation. "Are you feeling okay?"

"No, I'm not," Yoko said loudly, "because you went into that one and came out of-" He gave up his sentence and charged towards the sealed cylinder on the far side.

"Hey, wait, don't-" Ryo tried, reaching after him.

Yoko grabbed the latch on the side that he had seen the nurse set before. After a little bit of fumbling, it opened and Yoko tugged on the door, causing his back to ache more in the process.

Ryo was now standing beside him, telling him, "Come on, you know what's in there," but not really making any motion to stop him. He sighed and crossed his arms. "Do you do this to other people too?"

Yoko quickly shot him a look of unpleasant confusion and finally managed to pull the door open, letting it slowly swing back and out of the way. His immediate thought thereafter was that he needed to grab something quick - he was going to throw up.

"See?" Ryo said. "Unh, I hate it when it leaves these."

"That's," Yoko started. Instead of backing away from the machine or running out or even turning his head to release the tension in his stomach, he grabbed Ryo's arm beside him to make sure that it was solid and real. He looked back into the cylinder where a paler but otherwise completely identical Ryo was slumped inside the small confines. "That's you."

"That's not me," Ryo replied.

"That's you." This time he spoke with more conviction.

Ryo started to get annoyed. "That's not me."

Yoko didn't really want to, but couldn't control the impulse to reach out and touch the body inside the cylinder.

"Hey, don't do that," Ryo said, this time pulling his arm away.

"You're dead," Yoko told him.

Some of the amusement came back to Ryo's face and voice. "I'm not dead. That's just a shell."

"A shell?!"

"Yeah like," Ryo started, "you know, snakes shed their skin?"

"We're not snakes! We don't she-"

"Cicadas!" he continued. "The little shells they leave behind?"

Yoko gave him a look before reaching out and hesitantly prodding the body in the cylinder. It had a solid feeling to it, giving in only so much to his touch. He instantly had to jerk his hand back. "That's not a shell," he yelled, "that's you!"

"Hey, don't touch it!"

"Why not?"

"It's weird," Ryo muttered. "Come on, how many times have you looked at yours before?"

"Never!"

"What- you never- you've never opened the other side? You've never looked in? I don't believe that."

"I've never been here before!"

Ryo laughed. "Yes you have. You have. There's no way..."

Yoko had to take a step back and catch his breath, leaning over on his knees, trying not to be overwhelmed with the thought. No matter what his companion said, what was inside the cylinder was clearly a person. Not a person, it was Ryo. Nishikido Ryo - every single mole and hair where it was supposed to be and faded out from the lifeless body. The expression somehow looked a little sad - something about the way the lips were held, the sullen shadow hanging around the dark, closed eyes - his left hand hung at his side, while the right hand was curled, as if holding onto something, though nothing was there.

The disconnect caught up with Yoko - he couldn't begin to fathom how, but Ryo was beside him alive and in front of him dead. Both were equally true and no matter how reassuring his friend tried to be, the confusion of having both and the heaviness of looking at death reached an intolerable point. Yoko backed away from the two and turned to a corner, choking and coughing.

When he caught his breath, he finally asked, "How many times have you looked?"

Ryo answered quickly, without care. "A couple? I guess."

"...and you're okay with this?"

Ryo bit on his lip, making a stalling noise without really answering at first. Finally, "I have to be." He laughed. "I'm here at least once a month!" He quickly changed his tone. "It's just a shell, it's not a big deal. I'm not dead. Look? I'm not dead and that's not me and my shoulder's fixed."

"You have to be? What the hell - you have to be?"

He shrugged. "MatsuJun's here once a week too. It's not a big deal. Everybody comes here."

Yoko looked at him in disbelief, in slight disgust.

"I don't have time to go through surgery or rehab or bed rest," Ryo defended. "Stop being a baby. They'll put you in tonight and then you won't have any problem tomo-"

Yoko stood upright. "They're not going to put me in."

"So you're going to cancel the rest of your solo shows? Or try to make it through them with your back messed up."

"They're not putting me in that," he reiterated, heading for the door.

"Come on, you'll feel bet-"

As Yoko walked out, the nurse came in to check on the progress. She barely gave Yoko's exit a glance and peered over Ryo to see the open cylinder. "Oh, you decided to look again?"

Ryo became resigned in his stance and posture.

She ignored it and started looking over his chart. "It's okay, everyone gets curious."

"I was just trying to help," Ryo said, gesturing towards Yoko's absence. "He'll feel better if he just does it. I'm really sorry, I don't think he's coming back later."

"Don't worry," she said, not even looking up, "he always does."

  


***

  
Yoko was entirely too involved with his thoughts to really remember how he had gotten there, or even how he managed to get to the restaurant Maru had suggested on time. He kept rubbing the fingertips of his right hand with his thumb, thinking about how it had felt to touch the shell. It wasn't as cold as he thought it should have been. He wasn't sure if he could really tell the difference between it and the feeling of Ryo's skin in his memory.

"You're early!"

Maru sat down across from him, pulling his face mask off and taking a bag off of his shoulder, putting them both to the side. "I'm late?" he continued.

Yoko didn't answer. He began to consider the rest of Kanjani8. It was true that sometimes when they were all together in the same room, waiting, he'd zone out on the conversation. But he couldn't recall The Bath ever coming up, either in the group or between individuals. With all that they discussed, it didn't seem like the type of topic they'd simply pass over and it didn't seem like the kind of thing he'd purposely tune out.

"I'm on time?" Maru said, checking the clock on his cell phone, then flipping it shut.

Yoko still didn't answer. He was aware that Maru was there, knew he needed to say something, but couldn't decide what. Ryo said everyone went there, right? He just wanted to blurt out and ask Maru if he had been, what he thought about the whole thing. But broaching the topic...it didn't feel right. And the impetus was interrupted by the flash of an image, a picture of what Maru would have looked like in the cylinder in Ryo's place. His cold "shell" slumped inside. Yoko finally settled on, "Hi."

"Hi." Maru smiled and put his chin in his hand, leaning on his elbow. "Karaage."

"What?"

The waiter by their table turned to Yoko and looked at him patiently.

"Oh." Yoko was a little embarrassed for not noticing sooner. "Sorry. Uh, just water, thanks."

"That's no good," Maru said, his bottom lip pushed up and his chin slightly pushed out. "You can't go out to eat and not eat."

Yoko was already back to picturing Maru's shell in his head, having to look away from the real thing right in front of him. It was bad enough that the thought obsessively popped up, like unwanted bad dreams, but it was worse to picture it in light of his friend staring back at him with a sort of mild concern in his eyes.

"Is your back still bothering you?" Maru asked, interrupting his thoughts again.

"Hm?"

"Your back," he continued, "did you see anyone about it?"

Yoko made some effort to half-smile, an expression somewhere between amusement and irritation. "Hina has a big mouth."

"Yeah."

And after a moment of silence, "...I was talking about it on Recomen," Yoko finished, realizing. "Hina still has a big mouth."

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?"

"I'll just have some of yours," he replied. He already regretted bringing up Murakami; it was bad enough remembering Ryo and picturing Maru, now he had a third mental image to deal with.

"Hang on, wait a minute," Maru said. "I didn't say you could..." He went from slightly concerned, excitable, looking at Yoko, to relaxed with the gentle version of his smile. "Do you know what I did today?"

"What?" Yoko replied.

Maru started explaining his day, in broad strokes, from the very beginning - what was for breakfast and what time he got up for work and how the ride there was-

Yoko was forced to stop thinking about what had happened, to stop living in his head where images he didn't want hung around, and focus instead on his growing irritation. He was slouched over, his head against his hand, trying to take some pressure off of his back. He had forgotten for a while that it hurt - the sensation returned while he half-listened to Maru's itinerary.

By the time the food came, Maru was already discussing lunch and Yoko realized he was getting bored. Gloriously bored. If this had happened at any other time, he would have already spoken up and tried to change the subject. But beyond the additional image of Yasu as a shell when Maru brought up the afternoon, Yoko was grateful that he had distraction and no real pressure to respond. Any burden of interaction or obligation taken from him. He smiled slightly, without having to force himself.

Maru stopped talking about his run that afternoon. "It still hurts, right?"

"Yeah." Yoko tried shifting positions.

"I think," Maru said, still smiling gently, "it hurts a lot and you're enduring it to be nice."

"No, that-"

"I go to a chiropractor sometimes," Maru continued. "It really helps with the posture - good posture is important. You have to go several times, though. That'd probably take too long."

"It's okay," he replied. "There's someone I can go to. Sort of."

"That's good." Maru shifted his gaze. "Do you know where I want to be in ten years?"

Yoko didn't have time to answer.

"Right here," Maru said.

Yoko gave a soft snorting tired laugh under his breath. "Right here?"

"Mm."

"Right here, right at this table?" Yoko asked.

"I want to be where I can come have a meal after working all day, doing work I really like," he replied. "Get sore from working with people I like and then eat really good food together. What about Yuuchin?"

"Maru?"

"Mm?"

"I forgot to ask, how's your cold?"

"Much better," Maru said, lighting up - posing and smiling. He relaxed a little. "Still sort of stuffed up."

"I have to go," Yoko told him, pushing his chair back.

"Where to? I'm done for the day, I could go-"

Yoko stood up. "No, just go home. Geez, I can't believe you came here, and you're still sick? You're spreading germs, Maru. That's gross, that's really gross. Go home and stop giving everyone your germs. Nobody needs that." He turned to leave and threw in one last shot. "So thoughtless!" On his way out, he stopped by the register and put down more than enough to cover what they had ordered.

Maru, still seated at the table, shook his head, quietly laughing.

Once outside, the mental images came rushing back. Yoko couldn't help but picture all of the other members of Kanjani8, their discarded shells, and other members of the jimusho - all lifeless and crumpled in the cylinder. They were like forgotten memories, distorted and transient - not that he really wanted a better view. A couple of times he even imagined what some of his family members would have looked like.

Part of him felt like he was overreacting, that the whole treatment couldn't be that bad. Ryo apparently had no hesitations.

...Ryo didn't have any hesitations when it came to bungee jumping either. But Yoko knew that Ryo spent a lot of time bettering himself, devoting enormous amounts of energy to all the various parts of his career. His shell had seemed tired and sad, and definitely not of the fire that usually spurred Nishikido Ryo into so much action. It didn't have what made Ryo "Ryo". So surely it was just as he said - a shell. It couldn't be that bad. There was no reason not to trust him. The uneasy feeling and automatic aversion had to be the products of paranoia, standard Yokoyama paranoia.

The other part of him, though, thought it didn't matter, regardless. Every person had their obligations and necessary hurdles, the prices they had to pay to be where they were or where they wanted to be. It came with being human and doubled with being in entertainment. Yoko didn't agree that quick and easy fixes were necessarily worth leaving yourself behind, but he knew the harder he worked, the less everyone else would have to. He loved his job. And he loved being there for people - for his friends, his family, the fans. It was so much easier for him to do or give than casually say things, like Maru. He couldn't stop now and the problem with his back stood in the way. The solution could wait for most people; it wouldn't wait for a Johnny's. It couldn't wait for Yokoyama Yuu.

He'd go because he had to.

Still, on the way back to the clinic, despite everything he'd sorted through and concluded, he couldn't help but wonder - why were the shells of the others that he had imagined never quite as peaceful looking as Ryo's?

And why couldn't he imagine his own?

  


***

  
The receptionist gave a knowing smile, standing at his return. "Welcome back." On the bottom floor, as they walked out of the elevator, she looked over her shoulder at him. "Third time's a charm, right?" she asked.

Yoko forced his best polite smile in return. "Three strikes and you're out."

A large man he had never seen before was standing at the main desk, unmoving save his eyes that followed them down the hall. "Who's that?" Yoko asked.

"Night staff," the receptionist answered.

Third time _was_ a charm as they passed the waiting area and went straight into one of the rooms. It was fairly empty, unlike examination rooms, save a long table with the x-ray equipment hanging overhead, the bulk of which was mounted to the ceiling and attached to the wall. It was less intimidating than The Bath, but no less cold. "The back, right? If you'll strip down to your underwear, someone will be right in."

"Why?" he coughed.

"It doesn't matter what it says on the x-ray," she replied, "you'll be going into the machine shortly after."

"Couldn't I just go in with-"

"The faster you comply," she interrupted, "the quicker this will be over with."

He nodded, that was incentive enough, and stood still, signaling her dismissal. She had walked out of the door, with only her hand remaining inside the room, when he quickly shouted another question. "Why an x-ray?"

"I'm sorry?"

"If it doesn't matter what happened, why do we need an x-ray?"

"You wouldn't want to start a surgery without knowing what needs repair, right?" She smiled one last time, "Someone will be in shortly," and closed the door behind her.

Yoko took a deep breath and then thought of the whole situation like jumping into a cold pool of water - the longer you waited, the more agonizing it was, dreading the cold while everyone else who had already gone in had adjusted to the change. As he started to unbutton his shirt, he tried to tell himself that it was a good analogy - it was jump time, time to go. Instead, he ended up wishing that simple tricks like that really worked. In all honesty, as a kid when the water was too cold, he'd just avoided going in all together.

That was okay, then - as a kid no one was counting on him to jump.

He threw most of his clothes on the end of the table and sat at the other side, keeping his arm crossed over his chest as he waited.

The same nurse from the previous visits came in with little noise. "Lie down please."

Yoko obeyed, nodding his head slightly, sheepishly. "I'm sorry about earlier."

She pulled down the x-ray head and positioned it over him. "You're lucky, huh? This will just take a couple of minutes and everything will be fixed. If you were at a hospital, you'd probably have to go through an MRI, take several weeks off, possibly have surgery." She looked down at him. "I'm sorry." She gave the first sign of real warmth he had seen from her over the past two days. "I know it's cold in here. The lead blankets will help, but this won't take long."

She was out and in with each snap and after the final shot, picked up the lead blankets and told him, "I can't let you keep them on, though. It'll be about fifteen minutes before the film develops and The Bath's prepped."

Fifteen minutes wouldn't be too bad, he hoped.

He was alone with the x-ray eye above him, with the entrail-cords behind it, watching over him and only the sound of the humming fluorescent lights to keep the time. No matter how brave you decide to be, being so doesn't mean you can't also still be scared - like all moments of stress, his mind came up with reasonable solutions and tried to control the situation, but his body knew better. Every few seconds he would recheck his motivation, augment his resolve, only to find it unhelpful in keeping away the clamminess, the wrenching, the tightening of muscles from it being too cold. By his estimation fifteen minutes had surely passed when he got up to stick his head out of the door. If nothing else, moving around would help make him a little warmer.

And the little part of his conscience that told him he should stay put was quickly answered by, "Dokkun got to walk around."

 _He's probably their favorite customer at this point,_ Yoko told himself.

There was no one else there - he was the only patient it seemed. He stepped out into the hallway, rubbing the side of his arm. He didn't remember it being so cold in the room where The Bath was - then again, he hadn't been in his underwear earlier either. Still, it seemed a little strange to Yoko that he had complete access to the machine during Ryo's treatments but now had to wait in the x-ray room.

In mid-thought, he noticed the door at the end of the hallway open with several heavy bumps. He could hear the nurse wrestling with something as she tried to pull it out of the room.

Then, he could see her slowly moving out, struggling with arms full.

"They're getting bigger all the time," she commented. She tried kicking the door open with her foot to give the receptionist enough time to walk out carrying the other end.

"I hate it when they bust open like this," she answered.

"We need a better way of disposing them," the nurse replied. "I asked them to build a bigger storage room and, hang on," she adjusted her grip, "they said there wasn't enough in the budget. I told them we're getting backed up, they don't take them away fast enough - with all of them they've got now?"

The two turned, like carrying a couch around a corner, allowing the nurse to see down the hallway and realize that their only patient for the rest of the night had become too impatient for his own good. She sighed quietly. "Yokoyama-kun, could you please return to your room? We'll be with you shortly."

Yoko took a few steps in their direction, pointing at their load. "What's that?"

"It's nothing, please return to your room."

"Nothing?" he asked, panic in his voice. "That's- He's one of the Jrs."

"No it's not," she replied. "It's a shell, plea-"

"He's one of the Jrs," Yoko yelled at her. From his distance he could see that the kid's face was nothing like Nishikido's - none of the sad resolve or resigned melancholy. He could tell that the kid's eyes were open, his mouth open, his arm off to the side with fingers much more desperately clenched, like he had tried to scratch at the door. Yoko took a few steps closer to see, but stopped when he noticed the blood dripping down in a splatter on to the clean, clinical floor - the latest drop in a trail that came from the room where The Bath was housed.

Even with the outrage and sheer distress that Yoko felt staring at the scene, his mouth hanging open, the only clear thought that he could manage was, _Run. Please - run._

"Shit," the nurse said, trying to put down the body as quickly as she could.

Yoko bolted around the corner. He wasn't able to run far - the large man he saw earlier was standing right there, blocking the way to the elevator.

"Please return to your room," the man said.

Yoko was trying to reason out the most likely place to find the stairs, but there was nothing in the hallway but the elevator he had used before. He could probably get around the guy, but would be at the mercy of waiting for the doors to open. "I'm leaving," he said.

"Please," the man repeated, "return to your room."

He could hear the nurse yelling something behind him and it set him running again. Yoko moved to one side and then quickly cut to the other, getting past the guard.

But not getting far. Before he made it halfway to the elevator, the larger man had already pulled him down to the ground. Yoko's chin and then face slammed on to the hard floor, busting open his bottom lip. He could feel a hand on his waist and another tightening around his calf. He could hear the other man yelling, "Get the Pavulon!"

"I'm trying," the nurse yelled back, running behind the main desk. "Shit!" she said, tearing aside paperwork looking for what she had prepared earlier. "Where the-"

"You don't have it?" the man called, looking over at her, loosening his grip just enough.

Yoko yelled as he kicked and elbowed and rocked back off of the ground as hard as he could, pushing his captor over and off balance. His lower back spasmed, making his sprint toward the elevator uncoordinated - he ended up collapsing into the wall, hitting the button rapidly, looking over his shoulder.

The other man stood up and came to him, steadily, brushing himself off. "I'll only ask one more time, please return to your room."

"I changed my mind, I feel fine, I'm goi-," he stopped when the ding of the elevator rang out and the doors settled before pulling back. He stood up to jump in but quickly collapsed on the ground, his back giving out. Yoko grabbed onto the side of the open elevator, searching for something inside he could use to pull himself in.

"Your management wanted you fixed yesterday," the larger man said, reaching Yoko and pinning him down.

Yoko stopped trying to pull himself away long enough to punch, kick, whatever he could do. He had all the adrenaline he could manage on his side, but the other man was clearly stronger, tugging at his waist, starting to drag him away.

In desperation, Yoko grabbed onto the side of the elevator's doorframe with his hand, trying to put all of his strength into his grip.

"Got it!" the nurse yelled at them.

He was able to pull his chest slightly forward, clenching down his fingers on cold metal. His arm shook with strain and what little progress he had made was undone by the constant tug from the other man. Yoko's fingers slid back on the metal, parts of his fingernails bending back as he tried his best to dig them in and hang on. One by one, they came off of the side. And when only his middle two fingers kept him there, the other man forcibly gave one last pull, popping both of their bodies back and snapping the fingers in the process.

"Hurry up," the other man called.

Yoko cupped the broken hand, kicking out and yelling at the staff. The other man was able to pin him down on his back - which at this point had only been quieted by the fact that Yoko's fingers hurt that much more.

"Hold down his head," the nurse said, coming up with a needle in her hand.

"What are you doing?!" Yoko yelled at them.

"Hold him still," she said, kneeling down on the ground and putting her own hand on his face, turning it away.

"Please," Yoko started, still struggling. He choked on his pleas, snot starting to run down the side of his face. "Please - PLEASE!"

"There," the nurse said, injecting the small needle into his neck. It popped out when Yoko shook at the reaction, but at that point she had already managed to dose him enough. She let go of his face and stood back up, recapping the syringe.

The other man let go of his hold, standing up with her.

Yoko was momentarily too dazed to realize that he was no longer held down. When he understood, he immediately rolled over and sprung up to push at the elevator button. His body wouldn't respond - he was only able to get to his knees and reach out. Worse than being pulled down, his arm sank even with the sheer determination he put forth in keeping it up. He fell over on his side with a heavy thud, his extremities out of his control. His cheek was against the cold floor. He tried to move his head, pick it up, rubbing his still bleeding lower lip against the ground, pulling it. His breathing became labored, heavier than he wanted, and all he could do was move his eyes to look up and whisper out, "Please."

"Why does it always have to be like this with him," the nurse said, rubbing her neck.

Yoko could feel that they were dragging him back to the main desk. They positioned him on the floor so that he could look up at their conversation, as the receptionist meekly reappeared with a, "Did you stop him?"

He couldn't do anything to move, to resist them, to object. He could only listen - listen to his own disgustingly heavy breath and watch out of the corners of strained eyes.

The nurse looked at him, with much less sympathy than before. "We'll have to add a couple of lines to filter out besides the one for the problem in the lumbar vertebrae...the underlip is split and it looks like..." she knelt down again, picking up Yoko's hand, "probably something broken - probably a lot broken in his left hand."

"Don't you want to x-ray?" the receptionist asked.

"No," the nurse sighed. "I just want to finish this and go home."

The receptionist shrugged. "Okay."

"If it comes out wrong, we'll just correct it the next time."

"I don't want to repeat what happened with Yamashita-kun and the eyes," the receptionist replied.

"Just...make sure it's all filtered out."

"And his memory?"

"Standard. No-" The nurse sighed. "Take out the last two days."

She motioned towards the other man, who pulled Yoko up into his arms like a burden. He could have easily carried him in a way that supported all his useless limbs, but the man seemed perfectly content to let Yoko partially drag along as he moved from the desk.

From his position, Yoko could see the elevator doors out of his periphery. They were increasingly further away until finally they turned the corner and the only exit he knew of was out of sight. At the end of the hallway, they turned again and though Yoko had to wait until they were fully inside the room to see it, he knew exactly where he was. It was a simple guess; the smell was a dead give away.

The large man heaved him into the starting cylinder with little care. He started pulling straps out from underneath Yoko, fastening them against his shins, his quads, hips, chest, wrists, head - tightening them and keeping him in place. Not that it really mattered, he couldn't move anyway. Between his seething pain and thick breath, Yoko tried his best to glance down at the restraints - what they had called "support" when Ryo went in - and look back at the other.

The nurse came in carrying his clothes from the x-ray room, putting them down out of his sight. "I have the saline injection ready."

Neither would look him in the eyes.

In his head, Yoko was kicking and screaming, yelling and thrashing, anything to get out of the restraints. His body responded by only throbbing where injured. He was having difficulty holding onto his thoughts - violent anger he was unused to, disruptive pain, the desperate desire to be able to just call out like any hurt and scared animal. But first and foremost - what next? What next?

He tried to focus on putting all of his energy into his eyes, his mouth, to get their attention one last time - instead of letting his mind wander back to the images he had seen before. Instead of wandering back to...Akun? Akun-kun? He hadn't even been able to register that before; why was he even here? Why had there been blood trailing on the ground? Was there blood in the cylinder itself - surely they wouldn't have had time to clean it. There was no way for him to tell what was his sweat and what could have been the Jr's blood.

The nurse came over to shut the door and with one last effort, Yoko tried to grab her attention with his eyes, call out to her. All he wanted was to cry and he couldn't even do that. He had plenty to be angry about, and was angry about, but deep down he felt that they were only doing their jobs - if maybe she could see him and understand that he knew that - if she would only pull him out, he'd never hold putting him in the machine against her. "Please," he hoped he whispered as the cylinder sealed and locked.

It wasn't entirely pitch black inside; there was some lighting in the machinery that gave off a faint blue glow. The flush of water came, much more deafening from inside, and the smell of water hanging in the air intensified. If he could have tensed his muscles at the sound, he would have.

Nishikido Ryo. He was fine. He went through, twice with Yoko right there. He didn't scream. He walked out perfectly fine, better - he was energetic and talkative that morning. The entire procedure had bothered him no more than a haircut.

As the machine started, it was clear - Ryo didn't remember, didn't know, didn't understand what Yoko somehow did.

It started at his feet. All the pain in his fingers, lip and back paled in comparison to what he now felt. Ripping skin off like band-aids. Atom forcibly split from atom. Tearing muscle apart from the inside. He couldn't even process it.

It worked up his body - from feet and legs to his thighs and trunk. If he blacked-out when it began to split apart more sensitive areas, he didn't stay unconscious for long. And even though Ryo had been intact earlier, Yoko couldn't tell if his skin was sliding off or if it was the moisture from the machine.

When it hit his chest, it felt like he had stopped breathing all together.

And when it finally reached his eyes, the blue light faded out of existence - gone, like his voice had seemingly been for so long. If he had been able to move his head, free from the restraints or the paralytic, and look down and see exactly what was happening... But it didn't even matter - his sight bled out with the sound of the shattering water around him. If he was finally able to produce tears, he couldn't tell as he no longer felt the skin beneath his forehead. He was left alone in the dark and in the silence, waiting for it to finish with his head.

But the brain took the longest. Even though Ryo had been in and out of the machine in minutes, to Yoko it seemed like it was taking its time to unravel every thread of memory and thought in his mind. It was pulling his brain apart, unweaving and breaking neural stitches, ripping out plans and colors and life and every last concept he knew.

The last thing he grasped, the absolute last thought he could manage, was loved ones. Friends. Family. Fans. People who relied on him, counted on him. People he gladly did everything for. Anything for.

 _Not this_ , he thought. He couldn't. It was too much to ask of him.

 _It's too much._

And then, everything stopped.

  


***

  
"Konban-one two! This is Yokoyama Yuu!"

"Konban-one two! Murakami Shingo!"

"Hmm."

"It's getting hotter, isn't it?"

"...we're sorry, we were completely unprepared today."

"Ahahaha!"

"Completely unprepared. We're the worst. The worst."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Can I say something?"

"Hm?"

"I feel a lot better."

"I told you."

"I feel a lot better. But, you know?"

"What?"

"I was right."

"About what?"

"Last week! Last week I told you my back hurt, right? I hurt it during a show, right?"

"Right."

"And you said, 'Go see a doctor about it.' And I said-"

"They didn't?"

"They did!! I went to see the doctor a couple of days later and my back wasn't even hurting by that point! I probably just strained it."

"Probably."

"It didn't hurt at all! He took a look at it and said, 'Okay, we're going to give you a shot.'"

"Seriously?"

"He came in with a needle and put something on the lower part of my back and then-"

"You got a shot."

"I got a shot. Hurt worse than my back!"

"Maybe your doctor was listening last week?"

"No! No, that wasn't it - it happened because I was right! My back didn't even hurt anymore and I got one anyway!"

"Does it hurt now?"

"Not at all. Back to 100% Yokoyama."

"It wasn't so bad, was it?"

"It was terrible. Awful. The worst. But it's okay."

"That's what an idol does."

"That's what an idol does." Yoko leaned in against the table and looked over at his friend, a genuine smile with soft weariness around his eyes. He took a breath and then said, with as much subdued affection as he could manage, "Anything for the fans, right?"


End file.
